Written in lockdown
Updated: Sep 11
The Space Between
The space between
Narrow, sharp, silent
Routine giving way to rut
What is unsaid conceding doubt
The accumulation of time the only evidence
Its only worth
The pull away
Distant, sudden, cruel
First one then the other
Neither letting go, straining to keep hold
But pushing further away, heels digging in
The space between
Sprawled, dull, resonant
An uncanny threatening
Dotted with obstacles, taunting and cruel
Proximity a false proxy for the sea
A profound gulf
Forced, instilled, needed
A skerrick of control in chaos
Bound to here, banned from there
Neither one thing nor the other a comfort
In this space between
The face staring back at me looks sad, squished forward, saggy, puffy, the down turned eyes and mouth unable or unwilling to emote. I try to emit warmth, with the hope it is mirrored back, but it comes off so blatantly performative. It’s no wonder, I wonder, the loneliness with that impassive veneer. Lighten the hell up! At least try to look like you want to be here, I implore silently. I look elsewhere, anywhere but at that tedious swollen face. Glancing back briefly, and I catch its blank stare quickly adjust. You’re not fooling anyone. They can all see just how bloody miserable you are. They’ll definitely say something behind your back. They’re probably glad to not be … BAHAHAHA the sudden boom of earnest laughter breaks my thought, what did I miss?
Thoughts on masks
Mask up, cover up – I’ve been doing it for years. This time I don’t have to smile.
The masked singer – who could it be? I must be bored.
Behind a mask no one can see me gasp for air.
Senses muffled, feelings concealed.
I still wear an eye mask to bed every night, even though the night terrors have stopped.
I where ear plugs to mask the noise of the freight trains outside and in my bedroom.
This charcoal face mask is going to have to work hard to purify this shamozzle.
Its been six months since I've been to the hairdressers, this hair mask will fix my hair.